The Christian’s Race

Lyrics

Awake, my soul, in joyful songs,
And press with vigor on;
A heav’nly race demands thy zeal,
And an immortal crown.

Chorus:

Awake! awake my soul!
And press with vigor on;
Awake, awake, press onward now
’Till all thy work is done.

A cloud of witnesses around,
Hold thee in full survey;
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.

(Chorus)

’Tis God’s all animating voice
That calls thee from on high;
’Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine uplifted eye.

(Chorus)

That prize, with peerless glories bright,
Which shall new luster boast,
When victor’s wreaths and monarch’s gems
Shall blend in common dust.

(Chorus)